


Sustenance

by spowell Count Dracula series (SPowell)



Series: Count Dracula [5]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Humiliation, M/M, Mind Control, OOC, Torture, Undead, Whipping, blood-lust, blood-sucking, bond, dark!fic, dub-con, enslavement, evil!Merlin, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 21:21:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2707187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPowell/pseuds/spowell%20Count%20Dracula%20series
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Count partakes of Arthur again. Arthur has a strange encounter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sustenance

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to those reading and to those who have commented.

Again, Arthur slept until dusk. When he rose, he unlocked the single window in his room and swung it wide, gazing out at the Carpathian Mountains looming in the distance, the sun’s last rays glancing over their peaks before sinking away. A growl from below in the courtyard drew Arthur’s attention; the black wolf paced the front of the castle. When it raised its head and saw Arthur, it let out a series of furious barks that sent Arthur’s head jerking back inside the window. He closed it with a snap and flicked the lock before backing away.

Arthur washed his face in the basin and reached for his shaving implements, only to find that his mirror was gone.

When Arthur arrived in the dining room a quarter of an hour later, he asked the Count about it. Dracula leaned back in his seat, a gold cup of strong tea gripped between in his hands. Arthur could see no indication that the Count had been partaking of the sumptuous breakfast spread on the table.

“I don’t care for mirrors. They are a danger—so easy to cut oneself, which is a bad thing to happen in this country. I live very far from any medical help, you see.”

“But how am I to shave without a mirror?” Arthur took a bite of the meat on his plate.

The Count smiled, his boyish dimples in odd opposition to his flashing, intense gaze. “That is no problem. I will shave you.”

Arthur blinked, and indeed, the moment Arthur finished his meal, the Count had him reclined in a chair, eyes fixed on the rich tapestry on the far wall as the Count ran a sharp blade down Arthur’s soapy face. Arthur dared not move, and when Dracula edged closer to shave Arthur’s other cheek, Arthur found himself staring at the Count’s groin less than two inches from Arthur’s face.

As though tugged forward, Arthur slowly moved toward the large bulge straining against Dracula’s inseam until his face was pressed against it, breath hot against the fabric.

“Yes, yes,” the Count intoned, setting the razor blade on the table. He unzipped his trousers, releasing his long, thick cock.

Inexplicably hungry for it, although Arthur had never been so close to another man’s sex before, he ran his tongue over the silky skin before taking it into his mouth.

“That’s it,” Dracula crooned, his voice a mere breath settling over Arthur’s body and igniting his loins. Dracula gently pushed Arthur’s hair back out of his face and thrust his hips forward, rolling on the balls of his feet as he fed Arthur his cock.

It was a slow dance, and Arthur closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of the hot organ against his tongue as his head moved to and fro, to and fro. Try as he might, Arthur couldn’t fit it all into his mouth, and his lips stretched where the turgid organ widened an inch or more from the base. The head pushed on the back of Arthur’s throat, and Arthur’s eyes watered, but he kept up the gentle suction, surprised to hear his own moans rumbling from up his chest, until the Count began breathing hard, fingers tightening in Arthur’s hair.

When a burst of fluid surged down Arthur’s throat, he took in a long breath through his nose, body shuddering. Reaching down, he palmed the hardness pressing against the front of his trousers.

The Count eased out of Arthur’s mouth before dropping to his knees before him.

“I need your blood,” he said, blue eyes bright. Arthur shuddered.

“You are my sustenance.”

Slowly, Arthur turned, baring his neck to the Count, who immediately dipped his head, lips brushing Arthur’s skin before the vaguely familiar sting of the bite brought Arthur arching off the chair, a moan escaping his throat.

Through a building fog, Arthur heard the Count drinking, each swallow taking a little more energy from Arthur’s body. Fingers stroked Arthur’s hair. A moment later, a thumb ran over the bulge in Arthur’s crotch. He sucked in a breath, hands curling into fists of need as he pushed forward, yearning for more.

The sting receded, and a soft tongue lapped over Arthur’s sore skin, sending shivers down Arthur’s spine.

He fell into a restless doze.

When Arthur awoke, the Count was nowhere to be seen. Arthur would’ve thought it all a dream except for the throbbing in his neck and groin. His mind a fog, Arthur found himself unable to process recent events. He stumbled into the corridor, and a sound behind him sent Arthur spinning around to come face to face with a woman he recognized.

The brunette smiled, and Arthur’s eyes briefly ran over her body, noting the jutting, ripe breasts and voluptuous hips before he resolutely pinned his gaze on her face. Her mouth was blood red, and when she smiled, he thought he saw two elongated teeth to the sides of her mouth.

“Hello, Arthur,” she purred. “Do you remember me? My name is Morgana.”

“I-I thought I met you before.”

She smiled wider. “You did.” She stepped closer, lifting her nose as though smelling Arthur. She touched his shoulder, and he trembled.

“Where is the Count?” Arthur asked.

“On an errand.” Morgana moved her hand along Arthur’s shoulder. “We’re all alone. I suspect the Count thought me occupied with my prize, but my sisters are being hogs, so I came down here to find you.” She leaned forward, and Arthur felt her tongue flick over his ear. He jerked back, and she laughed.

“Such a little lamb.” Her palm drifted over his chest, and he wondered if she felt how hard his heart was beating.

“You smell delightful, and he hasn’t completely claimed you yet…” In a flash, Morgana lunged at Arthur. At the same time, the bang of the door opening brought Arthur’s head around so that Morgana stumbled back.

The deep growl of an angry wolf resounded through the hall as the black animal burst forward, sharp teeth bared. It snarled and snapped its fearsome jaws until Morgana backed away from Arthur.

“All right, all right, calm down,” she said. “I was only playing.”

A shout and running footsteps above their heads brought Morgana’s eyes to the ceiling.

“Excuse me, but I believe I’m needed above.” She seemed to disappear into a mist.

Arthur brought his eyes back to the wolf, who appeared ready to spring, licking its jowls menacingly. Without delay, Arthur bolted for the library and locked himself in.


End file.
